


Whiskey

by deadtech (QueerMuffin)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:23:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerMuffin/pseuds/deadtech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After mulling it over a bit, Jean realized that he probably should have thought this through a bit better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. Here I am, posting my first fic on this website. I honestly didn't think I would end up shipping Jeanmarco as hard as I do, but you can see where that got me.

After mulling it over a bit, Jean realized that he probably should have thought this through a bit better.

For the most part he’d had it all planned out: He would lure Marco back to his apartment with sweet words and the promise of cheap liquor, but the reality was nothing like his fantasies. Instead, he’d stumbled blindly into the library, straight into _him_ and stuttered his way through what could have been a great confession if his eyes hadn't stayed fixed on the ground the entire time.

Thankfully, Marco was a saint and his patron god must have pitied Jean, because that beautifully freckled boy had smiled his soft, sure smile and let Jean clumsily intertwine their fingers, even going so far as to agree to a coffee date at that shitty Starbucks down the street from their school. He’d also accepted Jean’s failed confession, which led to a sort of awkward half-boyfriends-half-not phase before jumping straight to this:

Two months, one week, and four dates later, with both of them drunk and horny in Jean’s cramped bed room. He knew that whiskey was a shitty idea.

...

Jean hissed, jerking at the sudden warmth of Marco’s hands skimming feather-light up his ribcage, ghosting over his nipples in a way that made his stomach feel all weird and - loathe as he was to say it - tingly. “God, Marc, give a guy some warning,” was all he’d managed to bite out before he was pushed back onto the mattress.

Being a twin-sized bed, it was a rather cramped fit, but he maneuvered his way into a half-sitting position. Marco’s eyes flashed in a way that was suddenly not very nice and all too predatory before setting trapping Jean’s legs between his thighs.

Jean flailed. Marco grinned, and the shine of his pearly teeth in the near-dark was enough to make Jean’s heart skip several beats. Swallowing past the growing lump in his throat, he hesitated, panicking about what to do with his hands before settling on placing them against Marco’s waist, and effectively slotting his hip with the other male’s crotch.

"So," he said, and he cursed the stammer in his voice, "are we just gonna-"

"Just go with it," Marco interrupted, cutting him off with a peck to the cheek. "Besides," he continued, warm breath tickling Jean’s ear. "You really want your first time to slip away so quickly?" Jean squirmed, feeling his boxers already starting to strain.

Go with it. Okay, he could do that. He leaned up to nip at the soft flesh of his throat, savoring the way Marco’s breath caught in his throat. He leaned back, taking in the red flush already spreading down the freckled boy’s neck and upper chest. A rush of pleasure coursed through him at the thought that it was him, he was the one making Marco all hot and bothered. Already this was better than any of his previous fantasies.

Suddenly exuberant, he leaned up to capture the taller boy’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Marco’s mouth was hot and sweet, like spiced hot cocoa, and he tangled his fingers in Jean’s hair, dragging them through the soft brown curls at the nape of his neck where the perm didn’t quite reach. Quickly they set a steady pace, with Jean rocking up as Marco ground down against him, the room filled with only the harsh sound of their heavy panting.

"Fuck," Marco groaned into his mouth, before trailing his lips down, taking Jean’s bottom lip between his teeth and continuing further, passing his tongue over his adam’s apple to suck bruises into his collarbone. Jean drank it all in: the smell of Marco’s cologne - sharp and citrus-y - and the way his fingers twitched when he got too excited. He leaned down to nip at the soft pads, and the smile he got in return made the discomfort of the angle worth it.  


He reached down to fumble his fly open before undoing Marco’s, and broke the kiss long enough to reach down and drag his thumb over the head of his cock, thumbing the slit before Marco took over for the both of them.

All at once thankful for the cheerleader’s slightly-larger-than-average hands, he hid is face in the crook of Marco’s neck, rutting into his fist when the boy tightened his grip.  


"Hah-ngh, fuck.." He trailed off as Marco adjusted him so that his back was to the freckled teen’s chest. He ground his ass down, hard, against Marco’s cock, feeling him jerk against the cleft of his ass. Honestly, if someone had told him two hours earlier that he’d be rutting like a horny teenager - which, to be fair, he was - with Marco Bodt, the captain of the St. Maria cheer squad, he would have punched them in the face.

But this wasn't a fever dream, and unless Jean was hallucinating, the warm body pressed against his was entirely real. Marco was tense against him, back taut as a bowstring as he whined and panted into Jean’s neck.

"Shit, shit," he chanted, and it wasn't long before one of his hands tightened in his boyfriend’s shirt and he spilled over his fist. He slumped forward into Jean, and the sight of his glassy eyes and blissed-out smile was enough to send the snarky teen careening over the edge; he came with a muffled groan, hurriedly wiping the mess on the side of the bed sheet where Marco wouldn't see it.

After that, it was silent except for their heavy breathing. It had just started to get awkward when Marco broke through the tension with a soft chuckle that bloomed into uncontrollable laughter. Jean flinched. Yup, there it was. He’d fucked up the first time and now Marco was going to dump him and put it on Facebook or something-  


"Jean." His voice was like cold water. "Stop thinking so hard." And all at once he registered the feel of Marco’s arms warm around his neck and his wrapping around the taller boy’s waist of their own accord, before he tuned entirely into the press of Marco’s mouth against his, the bitter-sharp taste of Bourbon and his own slick heat.  


Well. It couldn’t be said that he didn’t know when to cut his losses.


End file.
